My memories of my friend Phil date back to when I was probably six or seven, at my family's Christmas party…He was curious about everything and everyone…At Phil's Celebration of Life, a silent auction was held to help raise funds for a memorial bench...I bought his collection of caps. Phil designed and sewed them all himself, to wear when he visited the UBC Library, which was air conditioned. Phil's head was decidedly lacking any natural protection from the cold. The caps strike me as so whimsical, yet utterly practical for their purpose. That's Phil.

My grandfather always had a story to tell, a song to sing and an idea to share. He'd been a woodsman, a fisherman and a carpenter, but to hear him speak, you'd swear that he was a statesman…Whenever there was trouble at home, I was sent to visit him…We watched Haystack Calhoun wrestle the Valiant Brothers and drank tea with sugar and Carnation evaporated milk. During commercials, I would stare into the painted eyes of deckhands on the model schooners my grandpa built, or the alpine meadows in the landscapes he painted.

This two-piece blue-grey dress was bought by our mom for her 80th birthday party…The colour looked lovely on her and she was radiant that day…Our mom was a premature baby and they say she weighed around two pounds at birth. She was little (4 ft., 8 in.) but she was a strong and courageous woman in many ways. She wore a button at one time that said "Small but Mighty," and she was...She left us with a profound feeling of being loved. Her death has left a hole that only a mother can fill...We miss her, but her love for us is very much part of who we are as women today.

I remember that my grandfather loved teaching…The most important lesson we learned was the importance of family. I remember that he loved to read…enjoyed the outdoors…was a musician…was an inventor…All of these memories are pictured with him wearing one of many plaid shirts...There were plaid shirts for working in his shop, going to town, going in the boat and special plaid shirts only worn for fiddle contests...I remember being a little girl and watching the back of the plaid shirt as he worked in his shop...I miss him.

In 1994, I moved to Victoria, BC where I lived for 6½ years. My mother came to visit me twice. Both times we went to Seattle…This piece of clothing was purchased at the store of a local designer…This top always makes me think of the good times we had in Seattle. I still remember going to the restaurant called Flying Fish and my mother, who had a real sweet tooth, ordering her favourite dessert...She was in heaven...After she died, we returned to Flying Fish on Mother's Day...We toasted my mother and all the good times we shared together.

This dress belonged to my Gran…She gave it to me about twenty years ago. Although I never saw her wear it, this dress sums her up: vibrant, extroverted, outspoken, beautiful…This dress also represents the love (and loss) I feel for all my grandparents…They taught me so much. I have many good memories of them and they are always with me.

Nothing was more important to Adele than her family. Her other great passion was her love of dance…Her long teaching career touched and enriched the lives of countless people…Adele has, in fact, left a legacy of love for dance for her children, her siblings (many of whom danced with her), her many students, and all those who came to know her...She remains in our hearts despite the fact that we no longer have the pleasure of her warmth and smile...When Adele lived, she danced like an angel. Now she dances with the angels.

My dear sweet mother-in-law, Hazel…red, her favourite colour to wear…She was a beautiful woman inside and out…As a tribute at her funeral, most family and friends wore red. And you see, red will always make me think of her, because red means love. And love is the biggest gift she gave everyone who knew her.

For almost a year and a half, I visited Kay nearly every week to give her a relaxing foot massage…It was a joy, a privilege, and the unfolding of a beautiful friendship... I loved when she wore this bright turquoise sweater. For a woman her age, I think she felt it was a little risqué, yet it reflected her vibrancy like nothing else she wore. The little row of beads at the neck sparkled like her personality and she stood out like the bright light she was in my life, like the bright light she still is. Kay helped me to see more clearly the light I carry. She taught me a lot about living and loving, and about letting go...because, eventually, there was a last foot massage, a final look from her to me, the passing of her spirit into another light.

Rose was always elegant and well-dressed…She smelled like bath powder and vanilla…She wanted the black cashmere sweater for her 91st birthday…As we cleaned out the drawers, my mother asked if I wanted it. The sweater looked almost new but had my grandmother's warm, powdery, sweet smell...The wool, living, alive, has taken on my scent as well and is threadbare from my wearing it so often, thinking of her with love...It is ready to go to the ocean of the whole, not to be passed on to another individual, but to join with many other people's clothing in this collective collage, this project of grief and love and memory.